


Howlin' For You

by Faiktra



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Cadet!Kirk, F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Stripper!Spock, angst at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faiktra/pseuds/Faiktra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock ran away from Vulcan at a young age, but instead of joining StarFleet, he instead became an exotic dancer. James Kirk is a fresh-faced cadet on his first shore leave. When he is dragged along by his crewmates to witness Rydon's infamous, "Love Machine", Kirk is stunned by the entrancing Spock. Will the flying sparks ignite continue to glow or will it burn them to the ground. (I wrote this because of my Space Fam and also because I'm trash)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spock:

     In the club, there was never quiet. Booming music, cat calls and the chatter of the other dancers made sure of that. Yet, Spock did not find the abundance of noise distracting or even unpleasant. People often assumed that because of his more acute hearing that he would find the environment distasteful. But, he instead found it to be...fascinating. Multiple variables should have been cringe-worthy, but were of no consequence. The billowing smoke clouds from the expensive cigars fueled his dream-like state of calm. Strippers musk and the following perfume clung cloyingly to his nose and invaded his clothes all the while adding to his sense of tranquility. Even the spicy aftertaste of whiskey from his last private client, simply perpetuated the pleasant burn in his lungs. Unlike what his father had insisted Spock would be 'feeling', he was not, "degraded, demoralized and dirty." No, when he stood upon the lighted stage, for once he felt absolutely nothing at all.

Jim:

     "Does that fuckwad feel absolutely anything at all?!?" He paced the meager ten steps between each wall of the room like a caged-tiger. His fists clenched tightly, his nails digging vibrant red crescent moons into his soft palms. 

      "You're wearing out the carpet." Uhura replied dryly from where she was sprawled across their run down couch. Chapel hummed her agreement beside her while continuing to pour over her Medical Padd. 

    "Fuck you! Both of you! And fuck professor Khan all the way to space exile. And you know what..fuck StarFleet!" 

      "I don't think even you could fuck that many people, Jim." Uhura tilted her head slightly, as if contemplating at what warp speed a Klingon would admit it could not keep up, before continuing, "Although you should try, I bet you could get through forty percent of StarFleet before dying of dehydration."

       "Forty-three percent." murmured Chapel without raising her head. 

       "Thank you, Christine." Nyota smoothly tucked a stray strand of hair back as she spoke. "But seriously, is this magnitude of wrath really worth it, Jim?"

         "He gave me a fucking 'B'!!"

       "You're a fucking nerd, Kirk."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Spock:

   When the sharp knock rattled his flimsy door, Spock was already mostly in costume. He smoothly tugged everything into it's rightful place before padding over to swing open the door. M'Benga slid in behind a fuming McCoy, shooting Spock an apologetic smile as he arranged his make-up bag on the meticulously maintained dresser. "Doctor." Spock sat still as M'Benga swept blue eye-shadow over his delicate eyelids. 

   "Don't call me that Spock, it makes me very uncomfortable." McCoy mumbled, fiddling with the different tubes of mascara M'Benga had spread out. Spock fought the human urge to roll his eyes, resisting only with the knowledge that any movement would ruin M'Benga's fine work. He would have thought his 'manager' would have preferred a sense of professionalism, but human emotions continued to allude him. The half-Vulcan tilted his head to the side, staring questioningly at McCoy as dark red lipstick smoothed over his lips. 

   "I believe you were irrationally angry before, Leonard." McCoy twisted his mouth, eyes bubbling with righteous fury. 

   "A pack of SFleet officers are going to **_grac_** ** _e_** us with their presence. Do try not to make any friends."

 

Jim:

   "Try not to make any 'friends' here, Jim-boy. These sex-addicts will do absolutely anything to cling on to a good fuck ." Ensign Kirk gave the required, 'Yes sir', while continuing to doodle on the iced over window of the shuttle. A small turtle formed as his finger slid across the cold  Plexiglas . The leg of his cat wavered as the rails of the shuttle touched down on pleasure planet, Rydon. Unbuckling from his seat, Jim rose, eyes flickering back to Uhura and Chapel, the former of whom was waving animatedly. As if she was excited about being kidnapped by the higher-ups from his relaxing evening filled with tea and reading.

   "Traitor." He mouthed at  Uhura, who only shrugged before cackling as Jim was dragged away by the prat first officer. Who was still talking about strippers. 

    "...one of the best places for -- Jim-boy are even listening to me? I'm impartingcrucial wisdom here, kid." 

    "Of course sir." The First curled his lip as they approached a gaggle of performers clustered outside the clubs entrance. 

    "Disgusting really. I often wonder how fucked up in the head someone has to be to become one of these." He shook his head like he had proposed some magnificent theory before clapping Jim on the shoulder. "Come along then, Jim-boy." He plowed his way through the group, slapping one curly-haired dancer's ass on his way by. Jim mumbled apologies as he maneuvered through the disgruntled crowd, wishing his was back in his meager quarters with a damn good book. 


	3. Chapter 3

Spock:

  The club generally emptied out when SFleet personnel entered. There were too many whispered stories about sex drugs and toys that chilled even the most experienced workers. So Spock wasn't surprised to hear one of the youngest members, Chekov, muttering about the lack of tips. And apparently getting slapped on the ass. Mr. Sulu would not be pleased. The costume designer was incredibly protective of the curly-haired newbie, who drew longing stares from all species as he slid down the pole in his lacy pink thong. Spock lightly fingered his own costume while waiting for his stage cue. It was more conservative than most although the mesh held tight to his chest and tapered off into black leather shorts that were cut to showcase the curve of his ass. All in all, Mr. Sulu had once again found a strategy to make him, 'unfuckably sexy'. Humans had such a way with words. 

   "And now for a truly exotic creature. You won't find him any where else...Ladies and gentlemen: Love Machine!" He stepped into the blinding lights and was immediately entranced by... _ **him**_.

 

Jim:

  Jim squinted his eyes against the fierce brightness and was instantly entranced by **_him_**. 'Love Machine' stood a regal 6'6 feet tall, with at least 4 inches dominated by sharp stilettos. His soft lips were stained a deep burgundy and expressive eyes were outlined with blue shadows and glitter. Jim couldn't drag his gaze away from the undulating sway of supple hips, hearing himself distantly gasp, "Fuck." 

   And then their eyes met.

   It was exactly how he imagined getting sucked into space would feel. His breath vacuumed out of his lungs; his blood was boiling as it pounded through his veins; his fluttering heart thudded against his rib-cage in time to the fast paced music; his eyes widened as he struggled to comprehend this colorful twirling nebula of a man before him. "Unbelievable." Rushed out of Jim's suddenly parched throat as the dancer spun effortlessly with one leg hooked around the pole. Throughout the rest of the performance, Jim refused to break eye contact with the exquisite alien. Disappointment whimpered in his chest when the number ended. Yet, as 'Love Machine' exited, Jim thought he saw a smattering of green blush coat the dancer's cheeks. The young officer found himself incredibly grateful for being kidnapped onto shore-leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious to Spock's costume, these are what I based it off of  
> Make-up:  
> http://nonelikerae.blogspot.com/ Lipstick about a 1/4 of the way down the page  
> http://www.lorensworld.com/health-beauty/blue-eye-shadow-for-brown-eyes-tutorial-with-aurora-makeup-and-motives/ Eye make-up  
> Costume:  
> http://www.aliexpress.com/store/product/New-Men-s-Sexy-Stretch-Small-Mesh-Sheer-Undershirt-Bodysuit-Charm-Underwear-G50/905604_915931655.html Mesh top  
> http://www.amazon.com/BLACK-LIQUID-LEATHER-CLUBBING-SHORTS/dp/B0027EUQWE Booty shorts  
> http://www.ushoebeautiful.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/12/5/1805-Luichiny-Re-Becca-Heels-in-Black-Imi-Leather-for-Women-1.jpg The heels


	4. Chapter 4

 Spock:

  Blending into the shadows cascading from the curtains, Spock strode quickly from the events of the stage. He ignored Chekov and Sulu huddled in the corner; paced, heels clacking, around McCoy and Scotty passing a bottle and finally managed to seclude himself in the relative safety of his dressing room. Chest heaving, he snatched the make-up remover and stood rigid as he scrubbed his face clean. Finished, Spock balanced his shoulder on the wall, letting his lids slid shut and focused on getting air into his lungs. That man in the audience was, well Spock wasn't one to wax poetic, but he was as vibrant as a hypergiant sun. Stellar cobalt iris', a nose that crinkled when his grin stretched wide on his face and body posture that oozed confident understanding. He was classically soothing, yet unnerving. And there was the matter of how his clothes draped over broad shoulders. His clothes...

  Cool composure restored, Spock reopened his eyes, rolling his shoulders to loose the remaining tension knotting his muscles. The man in the audience had been exquisite. But he was nothing to get worked up over. It was simply illogical. The man was StarFleet.

 

Kirk:

   He was StarFleet. An officer. Jim was astonished by his own reaction. By the time Jim succeeded in stumbling his way into the bright street lights, alcohol and nerves buzzing through his brain, he was convinced his drink had been spiked. That had to be the answer. Eyes glued to his uniform boots, Kirk meandered up and down allies, dodging spilled drinks, suspicious wrappers and oblivious couples in dark alcoves. It was only when he recognized familiar giggling, did he look up to find Uhura with her arms slung around Chapel across the street.

   "Heyyyy, it's James Tiberius Perfect-Hair." Jim smiled at the drunken slurs as he crossed the road to join them. "No pretty girl or boy or whatever to sweep the feet of?" Nyota added, gazing at him from where she was curled around Christine. 

    Jim's grin plummeted off his face. "Someone fucking roofied me at the club. One second I'm listening to intoxicated blather and the next second there's this amazing dancer. And the way he moved was like sunlight filtering through water. Or like a nebula. He was just stunning. He had these eyes, and oh his lips..." Jim trailed off into a marvelous fantasy. At least it would have been marvelous had someone not started tittering. "What?"

   Nyota disentangled herself, drawing her shoulders back and striking a theatrical pose. "I am agog. I am aghast. Is James here in love at last? I've never never heard him 'oo' and 'aw'." Jim scowled as she dissolved into laughter again.

  "I'm not 'in love'. I was drugged okay? Don't fucking quote broadway at me, you drunkard." Still giggling, Uhura poked Chapel in the cheek.

   "The lovebird called me a drunkard. Beat him up and defend my honor!" 

   "You are drunk, Nyota. Your 'honor' was abandoned back at the bar." Christine tucked the squawking woman under her arm and began herding her away. "And you, Jim, are a smitten kitten." 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen...  
> I know it's been like two years..  
> I can explain
> 
>  
> 
> I'm a loser.

Spock:

The rest of his shift was uneventful, or perhaps it was eventful and he was just unaware of it because of the haze that had settled over him after The Moment with the beautiful Starfleet officer. Tucking away the urge to sigh along with his work clothes into his locker, Spock repeated the mantra that had been drilled into his head since arriving on Rydon. 'Starfleet is good at space exploration and emotional exploitation.' Even though he was determinedly Vulcan in nature, and therefore obviously in complete control of his emotions, no being desired having their heart broken. And he did have one, as much as McCoy took pleasure in implying otherwise. 

Smoothing out his soft grey sweater, Spock neatly stepped out the back door and into the cool night, wondering if it was possible to complete the journey to his apartment without incident. It seemed unlikely given the number of drunk officers currently present on the planets surface but he supposed it was possible if luck was on his side. Rounding the corner, Spock came to the quick decision that it was not. 

 

Kirk:

Rounding the corner, Jim came to the quick decision that luck was on his side tonight. The gorgeous dancer from the club blinked at him in what was a decidedly feline fashion, slowly coming to a halt a few paces from Jim with the street lights illuminating the curve of his cheek. Suddenly face-to-face with the man who had been occupying his thoughts for the past few hours, Jim found himself even more endeared to the quiet alien in front of him. Without his stage make-up and costume the man was something closer to adorable rather than the unobtainable ethereal entity he was before. Letting his eyes slowly drag from the tips of pointed ears down sharp cheekbones and a slender neck, Jim drank in the sight of the dancer, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to get his fill, all the while knowing he never would.

Realizing he had been silent far too long, Jim stepped forward and offered his hand towards the Vulcan. "I'm James T. Kirk. I saw you perform at the club and I've honestly been thinking about you ever since. I know there's no fucking way your name is Love Machine, so what is it really?" The only response he received was a long stare at his proffered hand before the Vulcan pivoted sharply on his heel and began walking the other direction.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was kinda short i'm just trying to remember where the hell i wanted this to go


	6. Chapter Six

Spock:

Settling down on his bed, Spock took a deep stabilizing breath as his heart continued racing against his rib age, cheeks slightly flushed because the Starfleet officer-James T. Kirk- had wanted to hold his hand. Mere moments after introducing himself Kirk had wanted to initiate that...and Spock had almost let him. He was, as McCoy would put it, royally screwed although he was not completely sure what Terran monarchies had to do with it. 

When his traitorous heart finally slowed, Spock lifted his PADD and tapped McCoy's information. As infuriating as the human could be, speaking with him always managed to assist Spock in sorting through his thoughts. Even if their speaking leaned more towards lively disagreements.

"You know Hobgoblin, some of us actually need more than three hours of sleep to function in the mornings."

"You would be able to achieve your desired amount of rest if you did not take the earliest shift at the hospital. But there is a logical reason for this conversation."

McCoy shuffled in his bed and arched an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of the Vulcan on the other end. "There's a logical reason for waking me up at two in the morning. Darlin' are you dying?"

"No."

"Bleeding? About to OD?"

"Negative, but Leonard-"

"Is anyone we care about injured? Or sick? Because if not-"

"Leonard I want to ask a Starfleet officer out. On a human date."

"Well fuck."

 

Kirk:

"Well fuck." Jim muttered amid the hysterical giggling of his supposed best friends. He had offered a Vulcan his hand like some kind of complete baboon. Nyota had explained, before bursting out cackling, that doing so was the human equivalent of a serious make-out and grope session. "I just wanted to talk to him..."

"Oh honey, I'm pretty sure the only 'talk' he thought you wanted was of the pillow variety." 

Launching himself onto the couch with a loud groan, Jim tilted his head to where Christine and Nyota were leaning together by the sink, still snickering at his stupidity. "He's just so pretty. He-he has these eyes that are just...wow and he's the perfect height for hugging and I just know he's a good kisser cause like his lips look crazy fucking soft." Jim drifted in a daze as he imagined what holding the Vulcan's hand in a human way would be like. The two girls exchanged a rapid fire silent conversation over his head before Nyota sighed and sat down to pet Jim's blond hair. 

"We'll help you."

"What now?"

"Chris and I will help you get the Vulcan god of your dreams because this is quite frankly pathetic. Go get me a cup of coffee because this requires brain power I am currently lacking."


End file.
